


Nightbook

by vamp_apologist



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 10:15:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22968328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vamp_apologist/pseuds/vamp_apologist
Summary: Spirited away to Middle-Earth, a modern woman named Amara is left shaken and confused by her new surroundings. She must navigate an unfamiliar world filled with strange cultures and even stranger creatures, forming friendships along the way and avoiding the Gift of Men - death. When she meets King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm, she must face the greatest choice of all: A way back to the world she knows and loves, or an epic love and adventures she had never dreamed could happen.
Relationships: Fíli/Kíli (Tolkien)/Tauriel/Sigrid (Hobbit Movies), Legolas Greenleaf & Thranduil, Legolas Greenleaf/Tauriel, Thranduil (Tolkien) & Original Female Character(s), Thranduil (Tolkien)/Original Character(s), Thranduil - Relationship, Thranduil/Thranduil's Deer, Thranduil/Thranduil's Wife
Comments: 18
Kudos: 14





	1. Home is Behind

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not an avid fan of Tolkien, and wrote this for fun based on my somewhat distant memories of the books and movies. That being said, I may have gotten many details wrong when it comes to the way Middle-Earth, Dwarves, Elves, and royalty in general works. Please don't take this too seriously. Thanks for reading!

When Amara thought of being spirited away, she usually thought of the Studio Ghibli movie or maybe even a dream. Not her actual, waking life. Clearly, Amara’s inner dialogue meant nothing to the universe – which happened to be much more vast and complicated than she could have ever imagined. The thought of just how tiny she was to the universe made her want to collapse in on herself.

Amara stood before Lord Elrond in the great halls of Rivendell beside Gandalf the Grey as they decided what to do with her. They were speaking some form of Elven – at least, that’s what Amara assumed seeing as Lord Elrond was, in fact, an Elf – whom Gandalf had called Sindarin. She couldn’t understand a word of it, and found no use in attempting to figure it out. Instead, she closed her eyes and rubbed her aching temples. Her head had been pounding from the moment she arrived in Middle Earth, making her more irritable than she usually was.

Gandalf placed his hand on her shoulder. “Amara,” he spoke, “This is Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood. He’ll be travelling with us to see his father, King Thranduil.” The old wizard gestured to an elf more beautiful than anyone Amara had ever seen. He stood beside Lord Elrond, platinum blonde hair cascading down his shoulders and a bow sticking up from its place on his back.

Legolas bowed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Amara,” he stepped forward, taking her hand and kneeling down to the marble floor. “I hereby swear to protect you from all harm, my Lady, and will do all in my power to ensure you adjust to life in the Woodland Realm of Middle-Earth,” his voice was gentle, but his eyes were hard and serious.

Amara fidgeted and looked to Gandalf, unsure of how to react. “I’m sorry, Mr. Legolas, but aren’t you a Prince? Why would you swear to protect me?”

Legolas smiled and stood. “It’s just Legolas, Lady Amara. I may be a prince, but it is my duty to protect those who come to Mirkwood.” He eyed Gandalf, “Especially fair mortal ladies from different worlds.”

Lord Elrond cleared his throat, drawing Amara’s attention away from the prince before her. “My Lady, I wish to bestow upon you a gift rarely given,” he produced a chalice from seemingly nowhere. “Legolas, Mellon, would you?” Lord Elrond held his hand over the chalice, and Legolas had produced a thin dagger and sliced open the older Elf’s palm before Amara could blink. Blood, shimmering in the soft light, dripped into the chalice as Gandalf ushered Amara forward.

“Drink this, Lady Amara, so you may understand the languages you will encounter in Middle Earth,” Lord Elrond gently pushed the chalice into Amara’s hands, and for a moment she could do nothing but stare at the cup of Elf blood and wonder just what the hell her life had become.

Three pairs of expectant eyes bore into her, and she lifted the chalice to her lips. After a deep breath, she drank the blood, trying not to gag. “Finish it,” she heard Gandalf urge, and tears sprung from her eyes as the blood burned her throat. With a gasp, Amara pulled the chalice from her lips, breathing heavily. The urge to gag was difficult to resist, but she swallowed her disgust.

“Now you understand the language of the Elves,” Lord Elrond whispered, and Amara knew somehow that he was no longer speaking the Common Tongue – English, in her world. The way his lips formed the words was both confusing and intelligible. Yet another thing to make her head hurt.

After she was shown to her chambers, Amara lay in the canopied bed, awake, far longer than she wished. Rivendell was more beautiful than any city she had ever seen, and yet fear held her in its talons. The events of the past week flew through her mind faster than she could process them – walking home from the party, waking up in the unfamiliarly tiny bed of a Hobbit’s in the Shire, the several days’ journey to Rivendell. None of it made any sense.

Yet, here she was; laying in a soft bed in the magical Rivendell, surrounded by wizards, elves, and who-knows-what-else. Amara could still taste blood on her lips, and the metallic tang sat on her tongue until she fell asleep.

_____________________________

It had been three days since Amara had left Rivendell with Gandalf and Legolas. The beautiful green of Rivendell had gradually faded into the darkened forest of Mirkwood. The entrance to Mirkwood was elaborate, framed by a statue of a beautiful stone Elf. Amara’s gaze had been torn from the statue once Legolas had said something about giant spiders, how lucky the trio had been to have avoided them thus far.

Nothing about that had given Amara a good feeling.

Lord Elrond had gifted her a small sword, called Sting. He had told her that the sword would glow blue when in the presence of Orcs, and would aide her to always swing true. She had no idea what an Orc was, but the word left a sour taste in her mouth. Having the sword on her hip made her feel more confident as she rode the stallion Nahar. He looked much like the Friesians of Amara’s world, though she said nothing about such matters. Something deep inside Amara told her to keep quiet about the inner workings of her world for the time being. She patted the horse's neck as she thought about her deep connection to the horses she cared for back home. Did Elves have veterinarians? Would she be able to care for animals here?

Lost in thought, Amara hadn’t even noticed the first spider until it had already been slain by Legolas. It screamed as his arrow struck true, startling Nahar. For a second, the entire forest held its breath, waiting, as the enormous arachnid lay on its back, spindly legs curled inwards.

The Elf prince looked up, past Amara, and his already pale complexion somehow lost even more color. Before Amara could look over her shoulder, Gandalf used his staff to smack Nahar’s flank, bellowing, “Run!”

Nahar took off in a flash, and Amara hung on for dear life. She could barely breathe as they shot through the dark forest, spiderwebs catching at her limbs. Legolas and Gandalf were just behind her, and she could hear the spiders scream each time they were struck. Her stomach churned with fear, and she imagined the feeling of spiderlings running across her skin as branches whipped across her face.

Another spider, this one even bigger than the others, flew from one of the trees, latching onto Nahar’s neck. The stallion reared, bellowing as the spider bit into his flesh, and Amara was thrown to the forest floor with a thud. She stood, unable to catch a proper breath, drawing her sword as the spider detached itself from her now-dead Nahar.

It hissed, lunging at her, and she managed a dodge. Amara frantically looked for her two companions, but neither could be seen from her current position. The web-wrapped trees seemed to span forever as the forest whispered to her. The spider lunged again, and she struck it with Sting. “Legolas!” She screamed as it came at her once again, making sounds she had never heard from any spider before.

Amara swung her sword as the monster flew towards her, drenching herself in its fluids as Sting sliced it in half. She might have vomited, had three more spiders not appeared before her.  
Since she had arrived in Middle-Earth, Amara had been too shocked to feel much, even fear. Now, facing three giant arachnids, all venomous enough to dispatch a thousand-pound horse in moments, she felt true fear seep into her veins. The trio approached her simultaneously, hissing and spitting as their fangs rubbed together.

One threw itself at her, and much like the first, her sword split it into two halves. Amara nearly felt proud of herself, readying herself to take on the last two arachnids. “Do something!” She screamed at them, adrenaline enveloping the fear, “I’m not going to let two dirty insects take me down, not now.” She readied herself for the next one to pounce.

It never did.

Within a blink, another Elf had appeared and obliterated the remaining two spiders. Amara held out her sword defensively. “Who are you, Elf? Where are my friends?” She asked, mustering as much confidence as she could. If she acted as though she belonged, just maybe she could survive this world.

The Elf turned, and she felt her false confidence dissolve.

Amara knew, based on those she had seen, that all Elves were naturally beautiful. She had thought Legolas was the epitome of beauty, but the Elf standing before her put the prince to shame. Snow white hair framed a face more exquisite than she could have imagined, and the Elf’s blue eyes and strong brows seemed to bear into her very soul. Amara felt cold as she stared at him.  
“Lower your sword, mortal, if you know what’s good for you,” he said lazily. He clearly thought she was no threat, and she felt offended.

“Not until you tell me where Gandalf and Legolas are, Snow White,” she snarled, thankful her voice didn’t waver. “We’ve come to meet King Thranduil, and I’m not going anywhere without them.” Amara held the Elf’s gaze, sword still drawn, in the most intense staring contest she’d ever participated in. She desperately hoped he couldn’t see her tremble.

A single pair of footsteps drew her attention away from the Elf to see Legolas, Gandalf stomping behind him as fast as he could walk. Legolas walked silently, as usual. “Father,” He breathed, bending at the knee. Amara’s eyes went wide as she looked between the two Elves.

Realization dawned on her, and her heart skipped a beat as she realized she had been pointing a weapon at the very Elf king she had been brought to see. Still, she did not bow, though Gandalf had dropped to one knee, too. Why debase herself when she had likely already signed her death warrant?

Thranduil nodded to his son and the wizard before turning his burning gaze back onto Amara. “So, you’ve come to see me, then? I assume you plan to thank me for saving your life,” he said, his expression blank. Amara, realizing Sting was still pointed at the Elf King, quickly sheathed her sword.

“I had it handled, Your Highness. No need to draw your sword for me next time,” she said, glancing over at Legolas. He shot her a sly smile and gave a small shake of his head. Amara supposed it was much too late to override her stubborn tendencies and bow, and instead stood awkwardly as her friends kneeled and the Elf King stared her down with his cold eyes.

“Next time?” He asked, turning to gesture that his son and Gandalf rise. “So you’ve come to beg to stay in Mirkwood, then.” His beautiful smile infuriated Amara. “I’m curious what my son has to say about you, Daughter of Man. Let’s hope it’s nothing as disappointing as your swordsmanship.” He turned and walked away, the flurry of his robes a signal for the trio to follow.


	2. The World Ahead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long time between updates. Life got the best of me. I'll try to post regularly, at least once a week!

The adrenaline had worn off, and the pain in Amara’s ankle only increased as they trudged through the forest. Well, Amara and Gandalf trudged – the Elves walked with whispering footsteps, all of them confident and lithe. They had been joined by a number of royal guards, all clad in silver armor with intricate details more beautiful than anything Amara had seen in her own world. It was difficult not to stare at them.

Legolas and Thranduil led the way, murmuring between themselves. Amara hoped they weren’t talking about her. Gandalf had said little since the Elf King and his guards had joined the original trio. Gandalf seemed so powerful and well-respected, but Amara took quiet note of his silence, and decided it best to follow his lead.

By the time they had reached the palace of Mirkwood, pain shot up her leg with every step. She kept a straight face as they approached the home of the Mirkwood royals – an enormous tree, with roots and branches forming complicated walls and walkways. Like the forest, it was daunting, and Amara felt the urge to turn the other way and run. It was a dark kind of beautiful, protected by strong silver gates. The elves that stood guard opened them, and the group walked into a palace Amara could barely comprehend. 

Large branches made up all the walkways. It felt as though she could see forever, it was so huge. For a moment she forgot where she was, only able to admire the beauty and strangeness of where she stood. Light filtered in through the leaf-bound ceiling, softly beaming throughout the palace.

“You’re hurt,” came a voice from just beside her, startling Amara. She hadn’t realized King Thranduil had slowed to walk at her pace. He was dauntingly tall and once again, Amara felt tiny in the face of the universe. That crushing feeling returned and threatened to suffocate her.

“It’s just my ankle. I’m sure it’ll be fine in a day or two,” she responded carefully, not looking him in the eye. His scoff drew her attention to his face, though, and his intense blue stare was already on her.

“We’ll let the healers determine that, I think,” his voice was low, and it left little room for argument. Amara was too exhausted to say anything back. Sarcasm coursed strongly through her veins, though she chose not to snipe back about her medical expertise. Instead, she nodded quietly. “You’ll see them first, and then I will hear of your request to stay in Mirkwood.” His eyes seemed to become even more intense. “You should thank my son. If not for him, I’d send you away without a second thought.”

He didn’t give her the chance to respond, turning away and starting down a grand hallway of dark branches and green leaves. Amara no longer felt like marveling at her surroundings. 

Tears bit at her eyes as she followed two of the guards, leaving Legolas and Gandalf by themselves. They, too, were tall and expressionless, and Amara didn’t even attempt to strike up a conversation. From what she understood, Elves didn’t think much of humans. She doubted they’d lower themselves enough to speak to her as they led her through the palace. 

She was limping by now, and breathed a sigh of relief when the guards stopped at a door, knocking twice. There was something written across the entryway, something Amara couldn’t read. Her focus shifted when a woman – no, an Elleth – opened the door. She was strikingly beautiful, with dark braided hair and kind eyes. She reminded Amara of Lord Elrond’s daughter, whom she’d met only briefly.

The Elleth said nothing as she ushered Amara into the room, leaving the guards outside. Her smile was reassuring as she guided Amara to a stool. “My name is Iaunis. Welcome to the Woodland Realm, qenya.”

“Thank you, Iaunis. My name is Amara,” she whispered as the Elleth’s deft fingers worked their way over her ankle. She let out a sharp gasp when Iaunis pressed to hard. “It’s just a sprain. I can wrap it myself.”

The Elleth eyed her. “You are familiar with human healing techniques.” She grabbed a bowl of paste and began smearing it across Amara’s bare skin. “Human techniques are not Eldar techniques, qenya. We have magic you do not possess.” Her eyes flicked up to meet Amara’s. “You’ll soon learn.”

Amara said nothing, though relief began to creep through her ankle. The healer stood, palcing the bowl on the wooden table. Amara was beginning to notice that everything appeared to have been handcrafted with the most intricate designs. Nothing looked anything less than perfect. 

___________

Nothing looked anything less than perfect besides Amara, of course. She felt hopelessly out of place as her chambermaid, Lireth, helped her tame her wild hair. All the Elves Amara had seen so far had beautiful flowing locks, smooth and perfectly braided. Amara’s own hair was dark and curly, barely manageable on a proper washing routine. Here in the wild lands of Middle Earth, her hair had become a nest unlikely to be dismantled.

“I’m sorry, Lireth. This must not have been what you expected,” She sighed, eyes dropping from the mirror. She couldn’t bear to watch the Elleth struggle any longer. “It’s probably best if you just leave it be.”

Lireth smiled down at her. “Nonsense, mi’ lady. It simply needs a conditioning concoction. I’ll return in a moment.” The Elleth disappeared, leaving Amara to stare at her own reflection. She was to have dinner with the King, his son, and Gandalf in the evening. She didn’t understand why it needed to be such an affair. All she wanted was to go home. 

The chambermaid reappeared in a flash. “Here we are, mi’ lady. This will have your hair tamed in a few moments’ time.” She quickly got back to working on Amara’s mess of a head.

“Lireth, is King Thranduil kind?” She asked tentatively. The thought of staring into his cold eyes for the next several hours had her stomach dropping. She needed something – anything – to reassure her that this wouldn’t end in disaster.

“He loves his people, Lady Amara. He isn’t fond of outsiders, though, and isn’t particularly inclined to extend his love to anything that isn’t of the Eldar.” Lireth was able to finally move a comb through Amara’s hair without catching a horrid knot. “He listens to Gandalf, though, and he will help you as a favor to Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel. They are very important to us Elves.”

“Thank you, Lireth. You’re kinder than I expected,” Amara glanced at her maid’s green eyes. “I’m sorry you were assigned to care for a human. Especially one with hair like mine.” She smiled tentatively, and it was met with a bright grin from the Elleth. 

“On the contrary, mi’ lady. I never could have hoped for anything quite so exciting.”

_________

Dinner was intimidating, to say the least.

Amara sat beside Legolas, across from Gandalf, and King Thranduil had seated himself at the head of the table. The feast that lay before them was comprised mostly of plants, but a few meat-like courses were strewn about. Everything looked so uniform that Amara was almost afraid to sully her food by touching it. 

Thranduil and Gandalf were speaking of how Amara had come to be in Middle Earth. He had yet to even look at her, though she was more grateful for that than anything else. Amara never wanted him to look at her again, the feeling of being so exposed made her want to run back to the spiders.

“Amara.” The commanding tone broke her out of her thoughts, and she looked up to find those eyes boring into her once again. She shifted uncomfortably in her gown, eyes back on her plate.

“You are uncomfortable. Are the garments not to your liking?” She looked up at him, slightly afraid of offending the Elf king.

“No, Your Majesty.” Amara swallowed, glancing at Legolas. “It’s just been a very long time since I’ve worn a dress. It’s an odd feeling.”

His eyes flicked down. If he had been a human man, Amara would have made a snarky comment about the location of her eyes. Thranduil was anything but a man, though, and she knew he thought of her as lesser. “You’ll be given trousers from this moment forth, then,” he said with a nod. “How old are you, human?”

“Just turned twenty a few months back.” Amara wished he would go back to ignoring her. She liked it better when she was invisible. Her legs crossed and uncrossed as she fought to get comfortable while the other three stared at her. “I know that must seem like nothing to you all. I understand Elves and wizards live very long lives.”

“Indeed, we do, Amara.” Gandalf’s voice was reassuring and kind, and it put Amara at ease a bit. “King Thranduil would like to hear how you came here, my dear. Please, tell us your story once again.”

Amara gulped. “I was in my own world. It’s just called Earth.” She swallowed, this time more thickly than the last. The words were difficult to push out.” I was on my way home when an injured young wolf appeared. It was bloodied and terrified. I followed it into the woods –“

“You followed an injured wolf into the woods?” Thranduil interrupted. “Why would a human do such a thing?”

She glared back at him. “I’m very good at getting injured animals to come to me. I couldn’t leave it to die alone, in pain.” Amara thought back to the look on the wolf’s face as it ran past her car and disappeared into the forest. Pure terror had overtaken it. “It was my job, back in my world, to care for sick and injured animals. My passion, actually.”

Thranduil sat back in his chair, his hand creating a resting spot for his chin. “So, you followed the wolf into the woods. That doesn’t explain how you got here.” He looked at Amara as though he didn't believe her. Irritation flooded her veins.

“No, it doesn’t” Because you won’t let me finish explaining she thought venomously. “It was dark. I used my flashlight, but it stopped working. I couldn’t see anything. And then…” The terror that had followed was etched into her mind. Her chest constricted. “I was falling in the dark. I tried to scream, but any sound I made was ripped from my throat. I don’t know how long I fell, but when I woke up, I was lying in a cart of flowers in Rivendell.”

“I watched her appear in the sky and land in that cart,” Legolas said, a smile evident in his voice. “It was quite the sight, Ada. Flowers everywhere, falling only to reveal an ill-dressed girl.” 

Thranduil’s sharp gaze was on Legolas now. “Ill-dressed?”

Fire rose up to Amara’s cheeks. “It’s considered normal dress in my world,” she said. “Here, though… I suppose you refer to them as undergarments.”

Amusement became evident on Thranduil’s face. “You fell from the sky in your undergarments, only to land on a cart of flowers in Rivendell? It is remarkable.” He leaned forward, gaze boring into Amara’s eyes. “You shall stay here, human. The rest of Middle Earth is no place for an otherworldly human accustomed to dressing only in undergarments. I think you’ll find Mirkwood more than accommodating.”

Somehow, Amara thought Mirkwood would make her anything but happy.


	3. And There Are Many Paths to Tread

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long note, sorry!
> 
> Two chapters? In one week? Is Vampy okay? Most definitely not, but it's to your benefit! The kind comments on my first two chapters were very inspiring. And if you all hadn't noticed, each chapter is titled after a line of Pippin's song in Return of the King. After that, I'll likely move on to I See Fire by Ed Sheeran :) The title of this story is taken from Nightbook by Ludovico Einaudi. His music is a great inspiration to this story (this chapter was written with Primavera in mind).
> 
> Please keep in mind that I have no Beta reader, so I do occasionally go back and edit my previous chapters. This is a constantly evolving work. I usually only change a sentence or two, but it's worth noting!
> 
> If you guys see typos, have any criticism or suggestions, let me know! I love to chat with my readers.

Dinner had only served to leave a bad taste in Amara’s mouth. She had been far too nervous to actually eat more than a few bites, and now the taste of emptiness had spilled onto her tongue.

Everything was so confusing. She didn’t know who to trust – Gandalf and Legolas seemed nice enough, but she was a fish out of water here. They weren’t even human, and Amara had a difficult enough time trusting her own people, much less the immortal versions. Gandalf had been putting forth a great effort to ensure she felt safe, but something about him seemed off. He was more than just a wizard; of that she was sure.

As for Legolas…she’d been told he was more than six hundred years old, but she felt as though they were close in age. Everything seemed like a joke to him – his father’s intensity only increased with every joke and jest, yet Legolas clearly thrived from such reactions. At every moment, he had goaded Amara into doing something that King Thranduil clearly found distasteful. It only left her wishing to whatever higher powers ruled this world that he would place her far away from himself, and she could exist in peace until she could go home.

If she could go home.

Amara sat at the edge of her bed and stared out the window at the silver forest that stretched past the palace walls. It was all so different from her own world. Thranduil didn’t think there was any way to send her home – magic didn’t exist where she came from. It was entirely a mystery as to how she came to Middle Earth to these powerful, perfect creatures, and that alone had dashed away nearly all hope of leaving this place. 

The thought made her empty stomach churn as she gripped the silken bedsheets in her fists. What prospects did she have here? Clearly, the humans of this world operated as though they lived in the Dark Ages. No way could Amara live among people who would forever underestimate her based on gender alone. She sighed, walking to the window to stare further into the forest. The Elves were no better – they would never respect her. They would never accept her. 

Maybe walking into the woods to face the spiders alone wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

She shook her head violently at that thought, turning away from the windowsill. Instead, she climbed into the luxuriously soft bed. No sleep would come tonight, but at least she could enjoy the small wonders of Mirkwood.

_________ 

The library was the most wonderful place Amara had ever encountered in her life.

Morning had started roughly, with Lireth pulling her from her bed just after dawn. The maid had helped her dress in a baby blue gown – far from Amara’s chosen style – and had softly explained that she’d be learning to read Sindarin.

“It isn’t enough to speak it, mi’ lady,” Lireth had said in her most cheerful voice. “You must be able to write, to read.” Her hands had already grown accustomed to brushing the conditioning potion through Amara’s hair, taming the curls into a more civilized volume. “His Majesty thinks you’re best spending your days learning all you can of Middle Earth through the art of reading.”

Amara had scoffed. “What, doesn’t he wish to read it all to me? It would probably save time.” Lireth smiled at her lady’s sarcasm, though she didn’t reply. Amara was satisfied enough by knowing at least someone in this strange land appreciated light humor. In truth, she felt more comfortable around the Elleth than any other she’d met so far. Lireth seemed the most normal of them all.

It seemed to take ages to get from Amara’s room to the grand library. The twists and turns of the palace’s branches all looked the same. Clearly, there would be no escaping into the woods anytime soon – she wouldn’t be able to find a simple kitchen, much less a place to quietly slip out. It had surprised her to see how busy the palace was, too. They’d passed by many Elves; some dressed in armor, some in fine gowns, and others in ‘plain’ maid clothing, though their outfits were more beautiful than the finest clothes her home offered. Nearly everything and everyone they saw made her feel more out of place. As she met the gaze of yet another finely dressed Ellon, Amara decided she wouldn’t let herself feel less any longer.

When they’d reached the library and Amara’s breath had been knocked from her body at the sight of it all, she became determined. She would learn Sindarin faster than any other had before. She would memorize every bit of history of this world. Maybe along the way she’d find something that would help her get home.

“You like it.” Amara turned around, shaken from her thoughts once more. Legolas stood before her, hands clasped behind his back, wearing a grin. “It’s the most extensive library in Middle Earth. Even Rivendell’s library pales in comparison.” He offered his arm, and Amara took it lightly, just as she’d seen in every period piece ever filmed. If she acted like Kiera Knightly in all her films, Amara might just pass as a proper lady.

“It’s beautiful. All libraries are, but this one…” She didn’t have the words to describe it. The smell drew her in the most – fresh flowers and rainfall. Nothing like the mildew of old books she was used to, but comforting all the same. “I think this is the first time I’ve been excited about something since I awoke in Rivendell.” 

This drew a laugh from Legolas. “Oh, melitse, you will see far more exciting things than this.” Amara drew her gaze away from the endless scrolls to give him a look of mixed confusion and worry. 

“I don’t think the King will ever let me leave this place,” she sighed. “He looks at me like he can’t decide whether I’m something to be studied or eliminated.” The Elf King’s eyes flashed across her mind’s eye, and the way her grip tightened slightly on Legolas’ arm did not go unnoticed by the Prince.

He led Amara to a grand wooden table, motioning for her to sit. “He doesn’t trust outsiders. You’re here because Lady Galadriel requested that he watch over you,” Legolas said softly. “My ada respects her deeply. You are a strange creature, though,” He laughed. “It would be no wonder if he did wish to study you.”

Amara finally broke into a smile. “You think I’m strange?” She found herself laughing as well. “I’m surrounded by unearthly beautiful creatures who live in a giant tree. I’m the most ordinary thing for miles.”

“An ordinary being would not fall from the sky,” came a deep voice from behind Amara. She felt herself freeze, willing herself not to turn around and meet those icy eyes. “Try as you might to convince us otherwise, know I will figure you out in the end.” The Elven King was at her side now, looking down onto the still-frozen girl. “It may take time, but I can wait. Patience is one of my many virtues.”

The urge to scoff at the ridiculous statement was too difficult to resist. Amara let out a small cough in an attempt to disguise her reaction, but a light chuckle from Legolas let her know the effort had been in vain as the older Ellon sat down at the end of the table. The scene was eerily similar to last night’s dinner.

“There is little to figure out, Your Highness,” She said quietly. “I was uninteresting back home – I doubt you’ll find otherwise now that I’m here.”

The King’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll be the judge of what is interesting and what is uninteresting, Lady Amara.” She fidgeted in her seat, looking down at her lap. Thranduil leaned back, leisurely crossing one leg over another. “Let us make a deal, Lady Amara.”

Her eyes lifted to meet his. She took in the sight of his silver garments and crown – it was much more understated than she would have expected from him. He seemed so extravagant in personality.

“I shall let you reside here in Mirkwood; clothed, fed, and housed until you either marry or accept the Gift of Men,” he continued. “During your time here, you shall learn whatever I deem necessary. For now, it will be to learn how to read Sindarin,” his long fingers gestured lazily to the scrolls already strewn about the table. “In return, you shall tell me whatever I wish to know about your world.”

“It doesn’t sound like I have much of a choice,” Amara muttered, making direct eye contact only to see his gaze darken angrily. “I accept, though. Something tells me the alternative is less than pleasant.” A small smirk graced the face of the King, and the dash of anger that burst through Amara had her wishing she could give him a piece of her mind.

Thranduil stood gracefully, his robes fluttering around him. With a nod to Legolas and one last tiny smirk towards Amara, he glided out of the library. She turned to Legolas, who still wore that aggravating shit-eating grin of his. “I think a wonderful friendship has been borne, do you not?” He asked playfully.

Amara scowled; her composure compromised. “Shut up and teach me to read Sindarin, you jerk.”


	4. Through Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for the week because I love you people xD 
> 
> I have a general idea of how this story is going to go, but haven't storyboarded as much as I probably should have. My next bought of inspiration will hopefully result in a conclusive storyboard so this can all make sense!

Amara had been studying nonstop for weeks. Every day she went to the library, escorted by Lireth. The great halls of branches had slowly started to become familiar to Amara as she memorized the details of her route. She had been pleasantly surprised to find that among the leaves and branches were also waterfalls and small ponds. Somewhere on the ground floor lay a beautiful garden that Lireth spoke of with excitement, though Amara had been too busy to see it just yet.

Truthfully, she almost felt back at home. Her days in her own world had been filled with studying, volunteering, classes, and more studying. Rarely had she gotten breaks to truly relax, and the same was true of Mirkwood. Not that such a thing could be blamed on anyone but Amara herself – she was absolutely determined to exceed the King’s low expectations. She knew he thought of her as less than, as an unintelligent creature of lowly origins. Amara absolutely would prove him wrong, no matter how many times she had to read the same scrolls over and over again.

Just as she did every morning, Amara frowned at the gown Lireth produced from the wardrobe. It was a light blue, nearly white, artfully sewn. It didn’t suit Amara’s tastes in the slightest. She detested the light colors and flowing fabrics of the Mirkwood Elves. Lireth smiled at her lady’s facial expression. “It may not be to your standards, Lady Amara, but this is the finest of clothing,” she said as she began to help Amara strip of her nightdress. Having help to dress was one of the strangest things for Amara to become accustomed to, even more so than the clothes themselves.

“I just don’t see why I can’t wear something darker, something more simple.” While it was the style worn by many of the Elleth’s in the palace, Amara had requested trousers and darker clothes on more than one occasion. A small part of her suspected that Thranduil had something to do with her ignored pleas, but the smarter, more logical part insisted he was too busy to care about such a small matter. No one truly cared what the strange human wore to study in the library.

Lireth giggled, “I will put in a request for trousers again today, mi’ lady. They’ll listen to you one of these days.”

Fully clad in the horrid clothes and wild hair only slightly tamed, Amara took a deep breath and headed to the door. “Today I think I’ll go on my own, Lireth. I’ve memorized the way, finally!”

The Elleth eyed Amara carefully. “It has only been a few weeks, mi’ lady. I do not want you to get lost…” She trailed off at the look in the girl’s eyes. With a nod, she turned to start fixing Amara’s bed. The girl smiled triumphantly as she exited her chambers, excited to prove just one small point.

__________ 

She was hopelessly lost.

Resisting the urge to bang her forehead against one of the many rocks she passed, Amara kept walking. She had been expected in the library close to twenty minutes ago and still had no idea when she would actually arrive. Would Legolas be angry? Would someone tell Thranduil she wasn’t taking this seriously? Amara bit her lip, anxieties flooding through her.

“Pardon me, Lady Amara, but you look a bit lost.” She looked up to meet cool green eyes, framed by a smiling face. The Ellon before her was nearly as tall as the King, with dark hair that seemed out of place with his open demeanor.

“The library…I thought I knew how to get there on my own,” she said, cheeks turning red from embarrassment. “It turns out I thought wrong.”

The Ellon smiled brighter, dropping into a slight bow. “I am Rynion, a simple captain of the Guard. Allow me to escort you to the library, My Lady.” He straightened, offering his arm.

Amara gladly took it, breathing a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Rynion. This is very embarrassing, and I’m so sorry to take up your time like this.” They began walking, though Amara felt herself struggling just a bit to keep up with the tall Ellon.

As it turned out, Amara quite liked Rynion. He reminded her of Legolas a bit, though slightly more guarded and structured. He was polite and chatty during the five or so minutes it took to arrive at the library. 

Legolas was on them the instant they came through the doors. “You were supposed to be here half an hour ago!” He exclaimed angrily, drawing Amara away from Rynion. “You got lost, didn’t you?”

“Of course not,” Amara scoffed. “I just took a detour. Rynion here was kind enough to show me how to get back on the right path.” 

She didn’t miss the look Legolas gave the captain. It was one of warning. With a nod, Rynion was gone, his smile absent from his face. For a moment, she considered asking Legolas what exactly that was, but decided against it for the time being. Legolas smiled brightly as he turned his attention back to the girl in front of him.

“Amara, this is Tauriel, my dearest friend. I expect you’ll get along well,” he said, gesturing to a beautiful red-headed Elleth standing near their usual table. She smiled softly, and Amara was stunned by her beauty.

“Is there some rule that all Elves must be insanely beautiful?” Amara asked incredulously. Tauriel and Legolas both laughed, their musical voices echoing through the great shelves. 

“Let’s get started,” Legolas said, guiding Amara to the table. “My father expects you to show him your progress soon, and we must work even harder now that you’ve been playing around with captains of the guard.”

________ 

Exhaustion was a familiar feeling for Amara – almost comforting, really. She was used to late nights, little sleep, and bags under her eyes.

What wasn’t comforting was the self-consciousness that enveloped her at every turn in Middle Earth. Being surrounded by beautiful, perfect beings was chipping away at Amara’s confidence. When she had learned that many in the palace used community baths, her heart had dropped. How could she bear to stand amongst them with her tired face, short legs, and less than ideal body? They already looked down at her.

This had led to even later nights. Lireth would arrive at her chambers at nearly midnight to show Amara to the baths, which were truly more like hot springs than any bath Amara had ever encountered, just so she could practice personal hygiene without the eyes of others. It was one of the acts that made Amara truly appreciate Lireth.

The Elleth tread the halls silently, and Amara admired the Elleth whom she now considered a friend. Lireth had gone out of her way from the moment they met to accommodate Amara, and she did so with a smile every time. It left her wondering how on earth she could ever repay the Elleth. Such a friendship was the most unexpected part of this world.

Ivy-like vines shrouded the female bathing pools, light steam rising from the surface of the clear waters. The sound of the small waterfall that filled them was soothing, nearly lulling Amara to sleep as she gently rubbed soap through her hair. Lireth waited outside the ivy curtains, just far enough away that she wouldn’t hear Amara if she hummed a little tune.

“I’ve heard there was a secret chord…” She began softly, her eyes closed. She would love to float in this water, singing gently, for hours if she could, but it would be rude to keep her maid waiting up at all hours of the night. Instead, Amara finished washing and drying herself as she ended the tune. Still damp and now clad in a nightdress that Lireth would surely scold her for, she parted the ivy curtain. Her eyes darted around, searching for her friend, but the Elleth was nowhere to be found. 

“Lireth?” She called, but the only answer she received was the ever-present trickling of water. Amara considered her options – try to find her chambers and risk getting lost, or wait a bit to see if Lireth reappeared. The second option seemed the safer of the two, and Amara truly didn’t want to get lost twice in less than twenty-four hours.

Her humming and singing started once again. Rarely did she get the chance to sing, but there was little else to do while she waited. Time seemed to slip away a bit, and Amara sank to the ground with her back against a warm boulder, eyes closed.

“The songs of your people are more interesting than I would have expected,” came a deep, now familiar voice from in front of Amara. She groaned internally, keeping her eyes shut and head leaned back.

“There are no songs that belong to ‘my people,’” she said, trying to keep her composure. The last thing she needed now was to be provoked. There was little she could do to filter her words when she was so tired. “There are just songs that I like and songs that I don’t like.”

One eye cracked open, revealing the King in silver robes that shone like the moonlight. She was reminded of the view outside her window that first night in Mirkwood. “It is past the latest hour, Lady Amara,” Thranduil said, ignoring her previous statement. “What purpose does it serve for you to sit on the floor in your undergarments?” A slight smirk took over his handsome face. “It seems you have a habit of dressing improperly. I had hoped the garments provided these past few weeks would remedy that, but it looks as though my efforts have been in vain.”

Her eyes flew open, and she glared at him accusingly. “I knew you had something to do with that,” Amara said angrily, a snarl catching at her throat. “All I want is a pair of pants and something that isn’t white, pale pink, or pale blue.”

Thranduil gazed at her the same way he would an insolent child. “You are in no position to make demands of me, girl. You are a guest here. You shall wear what I tell you to wear.” The nonchalance of his words made Amara’s stomach tighten. Never before had someone assert such authority over her, and it made her blood boil.

“Do you get off by making me angry or something?” She spat, sitting up straight. “It’s like you want me at your throat or something. Do you not have better forms of entertainment than messing with the lowly human?”

Something akin to rage flashed across Thranduil’s face, and his mouth set in a hard line. “I do not understand the phrase ‘get off,’ but I do not care for your tone. It would do you well to remember your place here, girl.” Amara stood, feeling more than exposed under his intense gaze, but was determined to hold her ground.

A gasp broke her stare, and Lireth appeared behind the King. “Mi’ lady!” She exclaimed breathlessly, curtseying before the Thranduil as she rushed to Amara’s side. “My King,” she started, “Lady Amara is very tired. Please excuse her tone. Prince Legolas is working very hard to help her understand proper decorum amongst us.” Lireth’s voice was steady, but Amara didn’t miss the way the Elleth’s hands trembled slightly.

Thranduil stared at Amara for another moment, as if daring her to say something, “It appears my son needs to put in more effort.”

He turned away, soundlessly disappearing from sight. Lireth helped Amara gather her things silently, and the two made their way back to Amara’s chambers without conversation.


End file.
